Thief
by FunkyLooker29
Summary: People are relying on Halia for many things - things they shouldn't have. She's a rotten scoundrel - but they underestimate her. So, the question is, who do her loyalties truly lie with? Lord Beckett, Davy Jones, Jack Sparrow, or herself? Jack/OC
1. Chapter 1

An updated version of the same story. But this time, I promise to finish it.

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><p>"Oh, no... oh, no, no, no no no."<p>

I scramble back in fright, shrieking in shock when another body emerges from the water - arching its spine and diving back in with a pointed hiss in my direction.

"Nope! No way, not gonna happen." I shake my head in vigorous protest. "I did not sign up for flesh-eating fishes."

"No." I remain adamant, shaking my head again, as if arguing with someone. I start to bounce up and down on my heels, head in my hands. "No!" I yell in frustration, dropping my hands. "I won't do it. How dare you try to make me out as the unreasonable one."

The monkey drops down from his perch in a nearby tree, his beady black eyes glittering.

"Do you have eyes that work?" I insist, voice pitched high, pointing in an exaggerated motion toward the now-stilling waters. "They're jealous, Jackie - they're jealous because... we have legs and they don't! They'll take them!"

His bobbing little head swivels to look at the pond, and then back to me.

"Don't give me that look." I plead. "Mermaids, Jack. They'll eat us - I know it. They love monkeys. Love 'em to death, use their pelts as blankets."

He screeches at me loudly.

"You know what? Fine, then - if you're so brave - why don't you go right on over there, swim across this- this watering hole and just trollop along on your jolly ol' dandy way!"

He cocks his head at my wild gesturing, screeching at me again, as if this in itself is enough to convey his feelings on the matter, before turning around and skittering up a tree. He uses a thick vine that twists up the trunk for leverage. I narrow my eyes at the monkey, watching as he disappears amongst the brush. He finally perches himself on a high branch, a small brown speck among the greenery, and with seemingly little effort manages to swing his way to the other side using small, dainty branches that would surely snap under my own weight. He lands on the other side of the water gracefully, staring at me insistently when I don't make any move to follow.

"Really, Jack? Was the actual trolloping necessary?"

The primate howls at me, bouncing up and down on his two hind feet, moving backwards down the path.

"No - wait, don't leave me!"

I take a thoughtless step forward, but jump back an extra two when a tail fin peaks above the surface of the water. My features contort. The pond/lake/water hole is seemingly dug like a mote - a long, thin stream encasing the center of the island. It is, of course, to the center of the isle that I must travel to.

With a harrowing sigh, I take another step forward, knowing I don't have the time to follow the stream to check if it is, in fact, encasing the whole of the center isle. I grab a hold of the vine Jack had moments before used to climb the tree. I tug at it until it pulls away from the surface of the bark and begin to unravel it. Once the length of it is free, I throw it up and over my head, managing to get it around one of the high, thick branches. I repeat the action, looping it a few times for security, tugging on the end of it to test its hold. When I'm moderately positive it won't give out under my weight, I back as far away from the pond as my hold on the vine will allow, and take a deep breath.

I jump forward and lift my feet.

The swing would have been successful, I'm sure, but as I pass over the water-filled trench the bottom of the vine drags the surface, and before I can pull at is, a thin hand coils around it. Under my swaying feet, there are at least five mermaids, and all of their pretty faces are upturned, simple wonder etched on their smooth, dainty features. I scream, stomach pitching forward in fright, fingers slipping on the vine as I try to pull myself up it.

I hear the water rippling below me and my breathing becomes abnormally erratic. A pale, lovely hand is reaching out for her, trailing up the end of the vine that's dipped in the water. The creature has hair the color of fire and it's slicked back over her neck, down her shoulders before it fans softly out in the water. I freeze, transfixed.

Then, the creature parts her pink lips - a soft, high note escaping her throat as she stares with soft green eyes. I watch as others peek their heads above the water and join in on the redhead's melody. One of their hands is on the toe of my boot, tugging on it, a silent invitation to join them in the water. Feeling foggy, my grip begins to loosen, my face inching downward. As I grow closer, the singing women are sinking backward, back into the water.

A loud, piercing screech breaks the spell, just as I'm about to release the vine to reach for them. I jerk in surprise, blinking dazedly, ears ringing. I glance up to find the source of the sound, confused to see Jack running toward me. I start screaming again, pulling myself back up the vine with uncanny speed. The redheaded mermaid's song cuts out, replaced by a terrifying shriek of anger, and when I look down she's pushing herself bodily out of the water, both of those pretty hands wrapping around the base of my vine.

The whole thing jolts, and I cry out, but the jump to land is too far, and I'm not fast enough to reach a branch. The vine snaps in two, sending me splashing into the glistening stream below. Startlingly warm, the water around me ripples and white bubbles explode from my mouth as I gasp for air. Hands wrap around my ankle, pulling me downward. I hiss and jerk, salt-water burning my eyes. The water is so clear that when I look down, I'm sure I can see for miles. Dozens of mermaids are wading in the water, and every single one of them looks at me with piercing eyes.

Fumbling, I pull at the hilt of my sword, heavy on my hip. Against the density of the water, I attempt to swing at the red-head's wrists with very little success. The blade is heavy in my hands, slow in the face of the water. The mermaid hisses at me, exposing a dangerous set of glistening teeth. In a panic now, feeling my lungs burn, I grab the hilt with both hands and plunge it down in a single, blind motion. There's a faint rumbling and a muffled noise, and then the fingers ensnaring my ankle are gone. I release the sword that's now imbedded into the mermaid's chest, and with unrestrained enthusiasm, begin to swim upwards.

In spite of the herd of angry mermaids at my feet, I manage to break the surface of the water. The second my fingers touch land, hands are grabbing at my feet, and even though I'm puking out salt water, I dig my fingers into that dirt. Mercifully, they catch onto a fat root in the ground, and weakly, I fight against their incessant pulling. Unsurprisingly, they are much stronger than I, and the grip I have begins to weaken within moments.

A gunshot sounds, startling me, nearly making me lose what little grip I have left, and there's a strangled yelp, muffled under the water, before the pulling stops. Breathing heavily and still puking up water, I fumble forward until my lower half is safely back on land. I crawl on shaking hands, until I can't pull myself anymore, and promptly sprawl face-first onto the ground, dry-heaving.

I see Jack in the corner of my vision, screeching in victory, my heavy pistol in one of his little paws, held above his head.

Reluctantly, I smile, and he runs over to me, jumping up and down on my back and dropping the gun beside my face. I cough at the dust the action stirs and pull myself to my feet.

"Don't expect any thanks from me." He pokes at her nose and, again, I can't help but smile. "You're the one who made me."

"Ayyyy, walk the plank, walk the plank!"

Dagger drawn, I spin in the sound's direction with an extended arm, but find no one. There's a shrill squaaaawk and my eyes land on a colorful, exotic parrot perched above us in the trees. Jack, on my shoulder, makes a disgruntled noise and I shush him, backing up to get a better look at the bird. His frantic eyes - equally as black and unfocused as Jack's, land on me before he squawks again.

"Get the girl! Get the girl!" He repeats, and I quirk my head at him. "Walk the plank! Walk the plank!"

"Who are you mimicking, my colorful friend?" I murmur curiously. I glance around, suddenly suspicious.

"Jus' a common thief! Common thief!"

My eyes bulge and my head snaps back up, "What did you say?"

Jack, still on my shoulder, shrieks up at the bird.

"Walk the plank! Walk the plank!" The bird repeats again, oblivious, mocking. I hiss, stepping back more to peer up at the parrot.

"No, after that!" I yell.

"Common thief! Common thief!"

"Oh, bloody hell..." I curse. "He's far too impatient. These things take time, don't they, Jack?"

I turn away from the bird, making my way down the dirt path in long, quick strides. Jack is clutching at either side of my head, fingers threaded in my hair. I wind myself along the path until it splits into a fork.

Plucking a wooden compass out of my still-soaking satchel, I flip it open and study the face. The compass needle spins in several circles. Finally, it seems to make up its mind, and I take the path on the right. I carry along until the needle starts to spin north, inching slowly. I frown, looking up from the face of the compass, then to the path that continues east.

I step off the path and duck under shrubbery, following the pointer obediently. As I get deeper and deeper into the forest, I start to hear that parrot squawking again - and, nervously, start to quicken my strides. The needle leads me to a small clearing, where the canopy opens and sun shines through. Shielding my eyes, I look around for anything out of sorts.

There's a cave opening, probably visible from shore if I'd sailed from the north and not the south. The rocks are a dark grey and the echo of dripping water can be heard. Jack seems to grow nervous on my shoulder, leaping off, skittering around the corner and into the cave. Quickly, I follow him, stopping only when the unmistakable glint of gold comes into view. Precious gemstones and treasures - as far as the eye can see. It takes the breath right from my lungs, makes my heart stutter in my ribcage.

Jack shrieks and I make quick to find him again. Stepping over chests and statues made of silver and gold, encrusted with ancient and priceless jewels, I follow him. He stops at a chest - a massive one - made of heavy stone and held above everything else on a rock pedestal. A stream wraps behind the pedestal, the blue waters inviting and shimmery. Jack climbs atop of the chest, howling like a mad thing. I don't need to look at my compass to know this is what the needle points to. I move toward it, running trembling fingers over the symbol etched onto the stone top.

Hernan Cortés's cursed treasure. I knew it was real - I'd been reassured many times, and had fled here on the fundamentally important belief that Jack Sparrow had procured the cursed treasure and left it here. Well, Hector Barbossa had found it, if you were going to get technical. I knew the stories of The Black Pearl well, and had learned some from Lord Beckett, as well. But there was no telling how much he manipulated those stories to fool me - so I went off of my own knowledge. Shaking my head, I shoo Jack off of the top - much to his protest.

I push the heavy stone to the side, balencing it on the edge of the chest. I run my fingers over mountain of gold coins inside - all identical, grinning-skull medallions. Some, I can see, are still red with dried blood. I pick a clean one out of the batch, lips forming a thin line. I blink at it before reaching down and tucking it into my boot.

I glance over to Jack, who is sitting on the ledge of the chest, his little head cocked to the side. I grin at him, showing my teeth, and gesture for him to come forward. He does so without hesitation, perching on my arm. I pull out a knife and pluck another coin from the chest. I decide against it last minute, shaking my head and dropping the coin back in the chest.

"Perhaps it is best that you stay in your current state, eh, mate?"

He shrieks in response. I nod at him and he climbs up up her arm to settle on my shoulder. Glancing around, I pocket the dagger and shove the top back onto the chest. Backing away, I squint at it, making sure it looks untouched before turning, eyes searching for a container one may keep a map in. After finding various empty chests, with no luck, I stumble upon a wide, short chest with an air-tight seal.

I pry it open and dump out the maps, shuffling through them until I finds one with the title "The Jedure Isles." It is painted on a rectangular scroll of pressed bamboo, clearly from the far east. I slot it into her bag and unroll a few more until I come across one of particular interest, which I slot next to the first one. I put the others back in the trunk and turn, heading for the mouth of the cave. I realizes now that it would have been much easier to come in this way, rather than having to face the carnivorous fish people, and grumble to myself.

This is why one may think twice before following Lord Beckett's navigational instructions.

Glancing back to the cave, I longingly wish that I were here under different circumstances - ones that would allow me a few more freedoms. But, sadly, I was not here under such circumstances.

A gorgeous silk silk sash catches my eye before I step out onto the beach, and I grab it coyly before fluttering out of the cave and onto the sand. Gleefully, I tie the red fabric under my breasts, smiling as it blows in the wind.

At the loud squaaaawk the permeates the air, I turn my head sharply to the side, wide eyes focusing on the colorful talking bird perched in a palm tree. I narrow my eyes at him, replying with a similar high-pitched bird noise and flapping my arms as if in flight. The bird takes note of me, peering downwards before he swoops down, flying just in front of my face.

"Get the girl! Get the girl!"

I wrinkle my nose in distaste, stepping back away from the intrusive creature.

"Common thief! Common thie-"

I swat at it angrily, "Would you hush about that!"

"Common thief! Common thief!" It echoes, mocking me.

I twist my lips in challenge at the blasted animal, "Now, now little birdie, if you don-"

"Get the girl! Common th-"

"I am not just a common thief!" I burst heatedly, loud voice ringing. "I am the best damn thief this side of the equator and am far more than you will ever dream to be, you bloody useless thing!"

The bird stills, as if in reaction to my words, then begins flapping his wings more vigorously to keep flight, opening its long beak to retort. Jack's shrill screech interrupts it, though - and my head snaps quickly to the side, eyes locking with those of Lord Beckett.

"A bit of an overstatement, don't you think?"

I bare my teeth in a sneer. "What in the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought the whole point of my involvement was due to the fact you were incapable of doing such things?"

His stupid navy blue coat stands out like a sore thumb amongst the foliage, and he steps forward with a cool expression. I can see two or three red-coated officers scurrying toward the cave entrance at the east. They come back with handfuls of gold and gems.

"It would seem the obstacle in my way has removed itself." He states vaguely, looking over me. My clothes are still damp from the run-in with the mermaids.

Knowing this is the "obstacle" he refers to, I sneer. Of course, I had come to the island with that very fact in mind - knowing it was peculiar that Lord Beckett had all of the knowledge - at least he thought he had all the knowledge, but would not venture here by his lonesome. Instead, he pardons a petty thief with the task. Grant it, he had been far from actually finding the island when he'd first propositioned me, as it was my scheming that resulted in them acquiring Jack Sparrow's compass - but it was still fishy.

After actually hearing of the island I was to sail to, the dreaded Isla de Muerta, I knew exactly why he hadn't done it himself. The isle itself was uncharted territory, an unmapped wonder even without considering the stories - and he couldn't afford actually taking the risk of sailing there. The dangers were sure to be prevalent and lethal. And who better to be the rat than a desperate, nearly condemned woman?

A dry snort escapes my throat and I glare. "It would seem so."

He stops in front of me, eyeing the scarf with a smirk. "It would also seem someone couldn't keep their hands to themselves. Far too tempting, was it?" He reaches out to feel the silk between his fingers. I swat at him.

"I could say the same for you." I gesture in the direction of his officers - now on their third round of retrieving. He shrugs his shoulders, unashamed in the face of his hypocrisy.

"I have to give you credit, your pickpocketing skills have come in very handy. I admit, I was doubtful that you would succeed in tricking Sparrow. I was doubtful you'd arrive in one piece, let alone actually succeed in swiping his compass." He stops. "He doesn't know of my involvement, does he?"

"No, you'll be fine. I've covered your arse." I see his shoulders relax a bit and I shrug offhandedly, grinning. "Guess I'm more than just a common thief, eh?"

"We'll see." He says briskly, "Do you have the map?"

I reach down, digging through the satchel and pulling out the bamboo scroll. He makes a grab for it, but I pull it back. "I am to be dropped off at the next port, unharmed and pardoned of my previous and future crimes."

"Future crimes?" He raises his eyebrows. "That was not the deal we shook on, Miss Vanour. You are to be pardoned of your years of wickedness, yes - but I am in no position to guarantee you clemency for any future indecencies you chose to participate in."

I shrug, unaffected, handing him the rolled map. "I had to try."

He snatches it quickly, eyes greedy. He doesn't unroll right away, but tucks it into his jacket. He probably doesn't want me to see it - or know of its value. He must think very low of me if he believes I think this was all just for a map.

"Are you not going to take the compass?" I ask, genuine.

He regards me coldly. "What? And have Sparrow on my back? I think not. You took it, it's your problem, now. Perhaps you'll get lucky and pick up a bountiful loot or two before he catches up to you."

I suppose this is how it's going to be now that I'm no longer of use to him, and I shrug my shoulders indifferently - content with the fact I get to keep the strange contraption and that their business seems to be done with.

I follow him to the dinghy he has pulled ashore, now weighed down with gold coins and shiny jewels. I see The Dauntless on the horizon and sigh, eyes shining at the adventures that await me.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack is sitting peacefully across from me, the gentle rocking of the boat having lulled him into a rare state of complacency. When the wind shifts, whipping at my face, water lapping loudly at the hull, I squint upwards in an attempt to see through the murky fog that has ascended. My hands idly tighten the small sail and I uncross my legs, bracing myself against the sudden motion of the boat.

Water mists my face, hardly a drizzle, and I glance back up to the sky, not having expected the rain so soon. To my immense horror, the water which kisses my face does not fall from the sky. Just in front of my one-sailed dinghy, a massive ship is emerging from the cresting waves. The sails are torn and frayed, the hull covered in barnacles and coral. I am rendered immobile with fear, heard hammering, throat constricting.

The stern is so close I could reach out and touch it. It's made from broken glass and carved wood - the medium creating the image of a large, fanged mouth. I pluck Sparrow's compass from my knee and shove it down my shirt, lunging to rouse the monkey. Absently, I look from the ship, to my pathetic dinghy, to the now violent waters - and decide rather impulsively to scramble into the sea. I dive in, flailing, Jack a heartbeat behind me.

I reach behind me to grab at his outstretched hand, pulling him along as I continue downwards. It's a struggle against the currents, but I swim with purpose. I steal a glance backwards, my dinghy hardly a speck now, just as two bodies pierce the surf.

Any hopes of escaping unscathed are put to rest very quickly when I see how quickly they can swim. It's only when they get closer that I realize they're not people at all, and their advantage is purely incidental - they're not human. One of them has a shark's head, and the other has fins for hands. They grab at my shoulders and drag me to the surface.

When they throw me on the deck, I make a show of coughing up water on my hands and knees, even though, in my current state, oxygen is purely optional. Though the liquid sloshing in my lungs is unsettling, it isn't painful. Jack is bouncing up and down on my back, being as loud as possible. Hesitantly, I crane my neck to look up, wincing when I catch sight of the crew that surrounds me. They grin and laugh at my misfortune, and they're all half-fish.

Some of them more alarmingly so.

I don't know why I've suddenly found myself aboard the Hell Ship but I don't stop to ask anyone, either. The clicking sound of wood-on-wood grows closer and closer, until I hear a gurgled, authoritative voice speak from amidst the gathered, "On your feet, you little wretch!"

I scramble in my haste to obey, meeting his eyes warily. He's the most alarmingly fish-like of them all - long, slimy green-pink tentacles slithering under his chin in a parody of facial hair. I feel my blood run cold at the sight of him. A man whose visage was forged in nightmarish bedtime stories. Jack is at my feet, tugging at my pant legs, but mercifully, he is quiet.

Davy Jones appraises me coldly, hard blue eyes narrowed. In a swift motion, he unsheathes a long sword and plunges it into my gut. My lips part in a startled scream, the lower half of my body suddenly numb with shock, and I hunch forwards, an arch over the sword that impales me. My vision swims with tears.

The surrounding men laugh and laugh. With a jerk, Jones pulls the sword from beneath my ribs, his face stoic and apathetic. Clutching at the wound, my head spinning, I fall to my knees, curling in on myself. Jack screeches and screams, pulling at my hair.

"Search her for the compass and throw her down under."

Two pairs of hands grab at my shoulders, pulling me to my feet and leaning me against a mast. One of the men holds my up as the other pats me down, rough fingers probing, ruffling through my bag. A hand stops near her chest, and then she feels something slimy reach down the front of her shirt. It wraps around Sparrow's compass and retreats. I remain limp in my captor's hands as they toss me to someone else, even though I'm beginning to regain feeling in my lower limbs. I'm dragged by my elbows below deck and tossed into the brig.

In the distance, I can hear Jack screeching for me.

"'Tis a shame." She hears one of them comment as he turns to leave. "She was a pretty lil' thing, wadn't she?"

The other pauses, as if in consideration, speaking before he leaves with the first. "Beckett wants what Beckett wants."

I wait until their footsteps fade. Gingerly, I pick myself up from the ground. I lift my shirt with trembling hands, examining my stomach. A wide silver scar has formed right above my navel. I drop my shirt, rubbing my face with a groan. At my feet, there is, at least, two full skeletons, and what appears to be half of another.

Trust Beckett to be a lying scoundrel.

I slide down the bars to sit next to the half-skeleton, heels of my hands pressed to my forehead.

Rumor had it that Lord Beckett was in possession of Davy Jones' beating heart, and, as such, was in possession of Jones himself. I'd believed it idle chat when I heard it. But, obviously, I'd been incorrect in that assumption.

This changed everything, because not only had I just given Beckett a map to an obscure group of islands, I'd been killed as a result of said action. Which meant I was a loose end that Beckett needed tied. Which meant the map was very important. Which was leverage.

Unhappy with my inevitable involvement in the whole heart debacle, I toss myself on the floor and play dead.

It isn't two hours later when The Dutchman becomes engaged in some sort of battle. Outside of the walls surrounding her, I can hear quick footsteps and cannons firing. The ship is swaying rather violently from side to side, and I figure now is a good a time as ever - slipping through the cell door that Jones' men hadn't even bothered to lock.

I saunter my way past bustling crewmen, having disguised myself rather brilliantly by stringing strips of seaweed into my hair and draping myself with a molded baggy shirt I'd picked off one of her cellmates. I arrive on the main deck unseen, and duck behind some barrels when I see Jones near the main mast. He's standing in the midst of the tussling merchant sailors, but seemingly distracted. I weigh my options before crawling toward his cabin on my hands and knees, glancing back at him before opening the door and slipping inside. I shut it quickly behind me.

It's one of the largest captain's quarters I've ever seen, with an enormous coral-encrusted organ at the back. I scurry towards his desk, rifling through various books and drawers in an attempt to find the compass. When this yields no results, I go to the organ, glancing into some of the large pipes and flipping through the propped music he's got above the keys. I sigh in frustration. A screech startles me, and my hand hits a mass of keys that echo sour in the large room. I wince, eyes jumping to the door, waiting for Jones to barrel in. When he doesn't, I turn to glare at Jack. I move to release him from his hanging cage. Happily, he snuggles against my neck and grasps a hold of my hair.

My eyes flicker back to the door, still hesitant, before I turn back to room, a determination in my eyes. As I'm searching for the compass, I come across something shiny and silver on floor next to the pipe organ. And, it's faint - but I can hear the object singing as well. I step across the room, kneeling to pick it up. I image I'd knocked it over when Jack had startled her. It's a music box, casted in the shape of a heart.

I run my fingers over the still-cracked lid as the melody plays, tracing over etchings of a woman's face. A muffled noise makes me jump, and I pocket the box and skitter out of the cabin in a sudden rush - running into a wide chest before I've even taken a single step onto the main deck. Tensing, I lean backwards to look into the face of Davy Jones, a sheepish grin on my face.

The malice in his eyes hints at his surprise.

"I thought you were dead." He hisses belligerently, his tentacles waving around in anger.

"Uh, am I not?"

Roughly, he grabs my by the forearm and heaves me bodily onto the deck. Jack flies off of my shoulder, into the crowd that's formed. The fish-people back away from me, sprawled ungracefully on the blood-soaked deck. I narrowly avoid landing atop of very dead merchant sailor. I wince as pain shoots up my hip like spider-lightning, but it's gone as soon as it's there. I hide my face in the notch of my shoulder, mind reeling. Jones, with apparently no time to spare, pulls me up by my neck with his claw-hand, forcing my eyes to meet his own.

There's a collective intake of breath and Jones drops my face like a hot coal, nose wrinkling in disgust. In the moonlight, my skin is rotted through and hanging limply off of my bones. I raise my hand to inspect myself, somewhat surprised because I feel no different at all. But alas, skeletal fingers wave back at me as I command them.

I glance back to Jones, "Told you I was dead."

He blinks at me, genuine confusion in his eyes, shaking his head. "The treasure of Cortés has claimed another victim, I see." He gruffs out, scratching at his tentacles. A sneer forms on his lips. "One just as foolish as the last."

I pause for a moment, smiling. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth before swiping it along a fully-visible set of teeth. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

"About that," Jones hisses. "Beckett didn't tell me this one would be so complicated."

"It doesn't have to be."

Jones' eyes narrow. "What are you suggesting, girl?"

"Let Beckett think I'm dead. It'll save us both some trouble." My eyes glitter. "And... I've got something you want. Something I'd be willing to give you, if this whole Cortés business stayed between us."

"What could you possibly offer me?"

"A map. Rather, the location of said map."

He rolls his eyes. "I know the seven seas like the back of my hand, girlie. I don't need any map of yours."

"It isn't just any map." I drawl.

He narrow his eyes further at me. "And what kind of map is it?"

"The map Beckett has." I reply simply, watching his eyes grow wide. "The map he had me steal for him, from Isla De Muerta. The map that he went through all this trouble to get. Pardoning a pirate, stealing Jack Sparrow's compass, sailing to the isles, the looming threat of Jack Sparrow's wrath, and, as we've recently seen, employing you in my murder. All of it, for a map."

His eyes hint at a slight interest. "Why should I care about Beckett's personal quests?"

I sigh loudly, annoyed. "At a time like this - when you three are fighting over that blasted heart, why, pray tell, would Beckett be fishing around for lost maps of obscure places?" I pause for a moment. "He's looking for somewhere to bury that thumper of yours."

Jones presses his lips together, finally understanding.

"So, here's the plan." I suggest cheerily, "I take you to the map, and you let me go."

"How can I trust you?" He sneers, suddenly all intimidation and wrath. "You're clearly a mad woman, at the very least delusional. And you sold to the highest bidder just as soon as your skin was bein' threatened." He glares at her. "You also failed in doing so."

"Did you ever consider that it was I who manipulated Beckett and not the other way 'round?" I quirk my head in Jones' direction. "And my allegiance lies with myself and my own desires. I had no intentions of giving anything of actual worth to Beckett, and I didn't. He simply would've chosen another location to bury it if I hadn't provided him with the map. And then you'f surely be out of luck, wouldn't ye'? Land is land to you - untouchable - but because of me you know exactly where he plans to plant the thing, and your little fish minions can fetch it. How can you look down on me for doing all that for you?"

"You improvised." He dismisses. "I know your type."

I shrug. "Details, details. I'm 'live and well, now, aren't I? Sort of."

He contemplates this before stepping forward. When he speaks this time, I can feel his ghastly breath on my face, and I thank all of the gods that I don't believe in that I cannot smell. "You knew 'bout the curse when you took that coin, didn't ye?"

I am silent in the wake of his question. I simply smile.

His eyes tighten before they relax, and he give me a smirk. "It seems I may've underestimated you. We have a deal. You tell me where Beckett's headed and I'll tell him you died down in the brig."

"Brilliant!" I clap. I reach down, pulling the second map from my bag. I hand it to him, and he unrolls it, eyes scanning. "Well?"

He looks up. "I'll be seeing you around, Halia Vanour."

He raises his claw-hand, and I doesn't have any time to brace myself before he sends me flying over the railing, toppling aimlessly into the murky depths of the ocean. I shriek until I hit the water, surfacing with a splutter, screeching profanities. Blindly, I turn start to paddle away from the ship. A splash resounds behind me, and soon Jack is at my side, climbing onto my bobbing head.

"Bloody mooch. Thanks for all the help up there, by the way."

Jack shrieks in my ear and I give him a quick apology. I swim until I see lights on the horizon, arriving onshore just as the sun begins to rise. I grasp absentmindedly at my stomach, empty with hunger. I sigh, furious at Beckett for throwing my time-frame off course, and, gradually, submitting to the idea that I'd have to suffer the effects of the curse for a few extra days.

Now that the sun is out, I don't hide my face, even if my entrance draws the attention of a few locals. Soaking wet, I make my way to the docks, hoping to find a vessel small enough to be crewed by one man. There's a few merchant ships anchored, and blessedly, a small dinghy not unlike the one I'd had before the run-in with Jones. Gleefully, I flail over it - fawning over my good fortune. As I'm about to set sail I hear a soft click - the hammer of a pistol being pulled back. I straighten immediately, throwing my hands up, dropping a length of rope.

"I swear I wasn't taking her, I was jus-"

I feel the barrel push into the back of my skull and I stutter into silence. I duck and spin to face my attacker, arm raised to knock the weapon from their hand. I freeze when I see his face, raising my hands above my head again, a guilty smile on my face.

"Hey, Jack." Nervously, I chuckle. "Long time no see."

His mouth, pressed in a thin line, sneers at me before he brings the butt of the gun back and conks her over the head with it.


End file.
